


Ladies, is it gay if you want to brush her hair?

by Kiiratam



Series: Bees and the Beach [5]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Bumbleby Week 2020 (RWBY), Canon Compliant, Everyone likes Yang, F/F, Fluff, Unrequited Crush, Yang's hair is magical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:27:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24503122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiiratam/pseuds/Kiiratam
Summary: At the beach on Patch, Yang is approached by one of her old Signal friends.For BMBLB Week 2020, Day 1: Blake's Ring/Sunflower Pop cap.A follow-up toDouble Dragons At the Beach. Takes place during Volume 4, between chapters 4 and 9. (My BMBLB fic index)
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long
Series: Bees and the Beach [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1482344
Comments: 42
Kudos: 97





	1. Chapter 1

"Dear, isn't that your old girlfriend over there?"

  
Beryl had _no_ idea what her mom was talking about, because she'd never _had_ a girlfriend. But her mother also wasn't going to stop talking until Beryl answered. And it had been _so_ nice, lying in the sun, drifting off to sleep from the heat and the sound of the waves...

  
"You know, the really nice one. With the hunky dad." 

  
Sighing internally, Beryl sat up and felt around for her sunglasses. 

  
Her mother, sitting on a towel beside her, nodded down the beach. Turning to look, but trying not to _look_ like she was looking, Beryl tried to find who her mom was talking about. 

  
And she saw a shining mane of perfect golden hair.

  
_Yang_.

  
Beryl put a hand on her chest, telling her heart to calm down.

  
It wasn't working.

  
But Beryl turned out to face the ocean, trying sound casual. "She was never my girlfriend, mom." _Not for lack of trying, on my part. And Forrest's, and Teal's, and Prase's, and - gods, we were **all** trying to date Yang._

  
"But that is her, right?" And before Beryl could answer, her mom made a little 'o' with her mouth. "Oh, her dad's even hotter without a shirt on." She started toying with one of the sun-bleached locks of her hair.

  
Glancing back over, Beryl saw Yang and Taiyang - he wouldn't let his students call him 'Mr. Xiao Long' - squaring up to spar.

  
Her mom stood up, adjusting the fit of her wrap. "Well, _I'm_ going over there to watch. You coming?" 

  
Beryl weighed her options. She could stay here, and embarrass herself by _imagining_ what her mom was saying, and not act like an idiot around Yang, because she always felt like an idiot around Yang.

  
Or she could go over there, and get embarrassed by what her mom was _actually_ saying, and get to see the wind play with Yang's hair, and see her fight again, and try to pay attention to Yang's footwork, and get distracted by her butt and Yang was in a bikini -

  
Beryl stood up. 

  
Her mom was rummaging in their cooler, pulling out two beers. "Do you know if he drinks?"

  
Shrugging, Beryl grabbed two Sunflower Pops from the cooler. Just because her mom was embarrassing, didn't mean she didn't also have good ideas. And, as Beryl well knew, fighting was thirsty work.

  
They started strolling down the beach, away from the walls of Signal. Yang and Taiyang were starting their match - no blows thrown yet, but careful steps on the hot sand.

  
Beryl didn't hear Taiyang talking, but she could hear him regardless, talking about the importance of a firm foundation, and stressing the need for care on shifting surfaces. Yang had her back to them, and the sunlight reflecting off of her hair - it almost looked like a liquid. It must be so soft. And Yang didn't even _do_ anything to it! She had probably been swimming already, and there it was, fully dry, poofed back to perfection. _Somehow_. Beryl had her honey-brown hair back in a ponytail, just because it became completely unmanageable when it touched seawater.

  
Taiyang noticed them coming, just a little flick of his gaze in their direction - and Yang sprang forward, spraying sand, throwing a flurry of punches - 

  
She'd lost an arm!?!

  
Beryl watched intently, making sure that wasn't just a new version of Ember Celica.

  
No, it was a prosthetic arm. A very sleek design, even if the bare metal and blue weren't Yang's colors.

  
What had happened?

  
Beryl had watched the Vytal Tournament with everyone else - she'd seen Yang break that Haven student's legs after she won. Which... it was Yang. She got angry when she fought. She must have just lost control. And in light of what Pyrrha Nikos had done, maybe they trained for brutality at Beacon. Beryl wouldn't know; she hadn't made the cut.

  
But Yang had been disqualified, and she had been fine, with two arms. Not even Beacon would be brutal enough to mutilate her as punishment.

  
...Would they?

  
But maybe she just got hurt in the Fall of Beacon? Some Haven students took advantage of the opportunity and jumped her, looking for revenge?

  
Her mom nudged her. "Is the arm new?"

  
Beryl just nodded, mutely. Still trying to work through everything, barely watching the fight.

  
But the fight had circled around, and Yang glanced at her, recognizing her - and Taiyang hooked the back of her ankle and dropped her to the sand.

  
_Oh no, I made her lose, and she'll blame me and -_

  
Taiyang pulled his daughter to her feet, shaking his head. She slugged him in the shoulder, and, laughing, Taiyang turned to Beryl and her mom. "Good to see you again, Beryl. Thanks for the help."

  
Behind him, Yang rolled her eyes, clearly feeling at least some of the same embarrassment Beryl was. But at least she didn't seem angry. Angry, red-eyed Yang didn't even seem like the same person as friendly, flirty Yang. 

  
"And, uh, I'm sorry, I'm not sure if we've met?" Taiyang extended his hand towards Beryl's mom.

  
She put a beer in it. "Jacinth. We've passed each other a few times."

  
Taiyang chuckled. "It's a small island."

  
Trying to put her mom's flirting out of her mind, Beryl sidestepped to get to Yang. _I won't ask about the arm, it's none of my business. And I won't ask about her match. I don't want her mad at me._ She offered Yang the Sunflower Pop. "Thirsty?"

  
And Yang - cheerful, perky, always happy unless she was fighting really hard and got terrifyingly angry - her shoulders drooped, and she dropped her eyes, and for an instant, Beryl was sure she was about to cry - but that all vanished after a moment, and Yang reached out with her metal arm to grab the neck of the bottle. Her fingers were cool against Beryl's for a second, before Beryl recovered and let go.

  
"Thanks." Yang snorted, popping the cap off with her thumb, and catching it with her real hand. She took a long swig. "How are the hairdressing classes going? They let you use your Signal scissors?"

  
Beryl nearly blew pop out of her nose. It was still Yang. "I think people would get nervous if I started swinging two foot blades next to their heads."

  
"Aww, c'mon! Just replace your crossguard shotguns with, I dunno, a water bottle. Or hair spray." Yang looked down at the bottle cap, and tossed it into the nearest trashcan with a soft _ping_.

  
"Nice shot." It _was_ over twenty feet away, and those caps weren't the most aerodynamic objects. She clinked bottles with Yang.

  
"Hey, Ruby learned from _someone_."

  
Right, Yang's kid sister. Where was she? Or their cute dog?

  
"Is she at home with Zwei? Ruby doesn't really seem like a beach person, what with the capes and everything." And the awkwardness, and she wasn't like her sister at all. Even if she did do more interesting things with her hair. Ruby definitely needed more help on _that_ front.

  
Yang shrugged. "More or less."

  
Beryl knew what _that_ meant. "Oh, she's off with your uncle." Thank goodness Mr. Branwen wasn't here. Her mom had also called _him_ hunky.

  
Speaking of... Her mom had turned to them. "Yang, Beryl, did you want to have dinner out here? I can run to the store and get sausage and everything." Beryl tried not to read anything into her mom's look at Taiyang, because she really didn't want to think about that at all. Ever. But having dinner with Yang would be nice. Seeing her hair in the sunset - Beryl was pretty sure that she'd seen Yang's hair actually glow at one point. Even if she couldn't touch, just looking would be nice.

  
"Uh, sorry, but I think my arm's just about out of charge." Yang grinned apologetically. "Plus, Zwei will start eating the couch or something."

  
"Oh." Beryl's mom glanced downwards, and Beryl braced herself for an excruciating conversation. "Well, we wouldn't want that."

  
Where had her mom found tact? Normally, she was so nosy.

  
...But she had also watched the Vytal Tournament. She knew what Yang could do.

  
"Thanks for the beer, Jacinth. Maybe another time?" Taiyang asked with a smile, and Beryl remembered why she'd seen so many fics about him. She'd only shown Yang one, but there had been a multitude if you asked the right person.

  
And her mom was clearly not immune. She did her tittering laugh that she did, and went ahead and gave him their street address, and Beryl couldn't believe that her own _mother_ was like this-

  
Yang clinked bottles with her. "Good to see you again."

  
Beryl made the mistake of looking down at their Sunflower Pops, and Yang's boobs were _right_ _there_ and the yoobs trapped her eyes and she couldn't get away but why would she want to - 

  
Right. Tact.

  
She forced herself to look up. Yang's hair was also nice. Less rude to stare at. "You too!"

  
_Oh gods, that sounded creepy because I was just rubbing my eyes all over her cleavage and she's in a bikini and I can't handle this and I'm going to go die in a pile of embarrassment._

  
The Xiao Longs started packing up their stuff, and Beryl and her mom started back up the beach. Beryl trying not to imitate her mom, looking over her shoulder every ten paces. The raging fires of humiliation helped.

  
Why couldn't she just _talk_ to Yang? It had taken her over a year to work up the courage to ask Yang if she could do something with her hair, and she had planned for weeks, trying to determine what Yang would look absolutely amazing in - and Yang had said no, and it had just _crushed_ Beryl, and she had thought she was going to literally die because she couldn't sleep because she had just replayed everything in her head over and over again and couldn't figure out where she'd gone wrong.

  
And Yang had just kept talking to her like normal.

  
Maybe... maybe something had changed at Beacon? Maybe Beryl could ask again, see if Yang had changed her mind. Just as soon as she got her courage up again.


	2. Chapter 2

Beryl took a long, slow breath, lowering her stance. She drew power from the ground and leapt into the air. Her twin blades were a cascade of metal, and her opponent was helpless to resist.

  
"Not too much, dear. Just a trim."

  
Touching down, facing _away_ from her mother and her weeding, Beryl rolled her eyes. "Sure, mom." She looked up critically at the hedge, shifting to get a few different angles on it. It _looked_ like she was done with this section. Which just left... like a half mile more.

  
Beryl sighed, and looked down at her broad bladed knives. So much for killing Grimm. She socketed her weapons together, making them into a giant pair of scissors. Her Dragon's Tail. Even it looked like the only thing she'd be fighting was the hedge.

  
No point moping about it, though. Beryl may not have made the cut for Beacon, but at least her hair-dressing classes were going well. And she had homework to do - after she finished the yardwork.

  
Springing back into the air, she kept cutting. In a real fight, the scissors mode was great for maximizing leverage - whether those were binds or devastating finishing blows. But it was too predictable. If Beryl was sparring against someone new, she could end the fight in a single snip. But if they knew her trick, or she gave them too much time to think about it...

  
Yang had never fallen for it. And she'd been the first person Beryl had tried to use Dragon's Tail on.

  
Really, Beryl should have gone back to the drawing board at that point. What was the point of a trick weapon if it couldn't trick anyone?

  
Even if Yang wasn't really _anyone_. Her dad was a Huntsman - and an instructor - and so was her uncle. And she already had an active Aura when she started at Signal, and already knew how to fight...

  
Dragon's Tail hadn't fooled anyone _good_.

  
But Beryl had just been so _proud_ of her weapon, and she'd worked so _hard_ on it, and the next couple of people she'd tried it on had fallen for it...

  
But it wasn't good enough. Just like she wasn't good enough to be a Huntress.

  
So here she was, trimming the hedge with her custom-made weapon. Beryl knew she'd have to clean it well, get all the sap off, check the edge... but she almost didn't want to. Just toss Dragon's Tail in the corner of the shed, and leave it to rust. 

  
"Scissoring in public? Hot."

  
Beryl would have jumped if she wasn't already airborne. As is, she nearly twisted her ankle landing wrong, trying to turn to face the speaker.

  
But it was worth it, because it was Yang, with her old smile on her face.

  
"Yang! Hi!" _Ohgodsohgodsohgods-_

  
\- And Yang was just in a tank top and _very_ short shorts, and she was sweaty and glowing, and her hair was up in a high ponytail, and it looked _amazing_ , and how could something so simple look that good, it wasn't fair -

  
"And uh, yeah! Scissoring!" Beryl held up her weapon - and the innuendo sunk in.

  
It wasn't the first time. It wasn't even the dozenth time. Yang had been making that joke for years, and _every time_ Beryl forgot about it.

  
Yang nodded, on the edge of laughter. "You're still a big fan, huh?"

  
"No, I mean, yes, but not like that-" Absolutely like that, provided it was Yang. "I was focusing! You know how I get!"

  
"Yeah, I know. You know me, always teasing."

  
And that was _all_ she did. If Yang had just dated _someone_ , made out in the woods, banged in the locker room, _something_ , then maybe Beryl would have been able to get over her. But she was always available, always juuuuuust out of reach. It was **infuriating**. And also, somehow, brain-meltingly attractive.

  
But they weren't still at Signal. There wasn't a whole group of Yang's friends for Beryl to blend back into. She had to actually be able to _think_ , and hold a conversation with Yang.

  
Which meant ignoring how heavily Yang was breathing, and those few strands of hair that had escaped Yang's ponytail, and Beryl just wanted to reach out and _fix_.

  
"Um, so.... out for a run?" 

  
_I'm an idiot. She always makes me into an idiot. Gods, why can't I actually act like a person with a brain around Yang?_

  
"Yup. I spent most of the winter in bed." She lifted her mechanical arm slightly, by way of explanation. "Need to get my endurance up again." 

  
_And she always treats me like I'm not an idiot. For some reason._

  
Beryl tried not to stare at Yang's prosthetic. The colors were all wrong, and it was just such a jarring contrast to what seemed like the Yang she had known.

  
But Yang had still noticed. "Pretty nifty, right?" She held the hand out, waggling the fingers. "I've got some customizing to do."

  
"Including a paintjob?" ... _My stupid mouth._

  
"Oooh, never done a paintjob. What's involved in _that_?" 

  
And now Beryl couldn't even look at Yang, because she had to cover her increasingly warm face, and a year away from Yang had clearly stripped away whatever resistance she'd built up to Yang's flirty voice - and 'strip' was definitely a bad word to consider right now -

  
Yang, being Yang, was pressing her advantage. "'Hey, can I borrow your _paint roller_? I'm repainting my _dining room_.'"

  
_Because that's where everyone eats. Or wants to, at least._ Beryl did not need that image in her head right now. ...Later, yes.

  
Fortunately, Yang kept talking. "Grapes, I can just imagine Forrest getting a paint tray and just... doing cartwheels so he could get full coverage." Unfortunately, Yang kept talking.

  
Beryl tried to get the conversation headed _anywhere_ else. "No Zwei? I thought he loved walks." 

  
"Yeah, walks. Not so much runs." Yang pulled her hands close to her chest and mimed taking little steps with them. "Short, stubby legs."

  
"Oh, yeah, right, that makes sense."

  
Compared to the beach, Yang was positively gregarious. "Besides, dad's got him helping with gardening. Trying to get some good use out of his digging habits."

  
Beryl glanced back at her mother, still weeding their garden. Personally, she wasn't really a fan. Parts of it were close to hairdressing - trimming, layering - but it was just different enough to be frustrating. And their zucchini plants didn't know how to quit, so Beryl had suffered through her mother trying literally hundreds of different recipes.

  
Yang leaned in a bit closer. "The real endurance challenge is making my runs last until dad's done gardening. I see you got caught."

  
"Yeah." Beryl didn't know what to do with Dragon's Tail, and she started twirling it over the back of her hand. "It's more action than I've seen in..." She didn't even know how long. Six months? There had been that skulking Beowolf in early winter. "...a while." A thought occurred to her. "Hey, did you want to spar sometime?" Not that she'd really ever been able to hold her own against Yang. But if Yang was trying to get back into fighting trim... Beryl could at least make the offer. Had. It was too late to back out.

  
What was the worst Yang could say? Beryl already knew she wasn't real Huntress material. She'd been stewing in that for over a year. Hearing it from Yang wouldn't hurt any worse.

  
Probably.

  
"If my dad ever slows down, sure. He's dedicated every afternoon to kicking my butt." Yang blew out a breath. "I've been collapsing into bed right after I eat dinner."

  
She _did_ look tired. Not just the sweaty-I've-been-on-a-run tired, but I've-been-cramming-all-night-for-this-exam tired. 

  
"Oh." Taiyang _would_ be a lot more useful as a sparring partner anyway. He'd be able to press Yang, drive her to get better. Beryl would just be giving Yang a chance to kick butt, instead of getting kicked. "Well, you know where to find me. Not like I'm going anywhere." She wanted to leave it there, but her mouth kept talking. "And if you want to just hang out, I'm here."

  
_She knows that, dummy!_

  
To top off her humiliation, she fumbled her spin, and Dragon's Tail went flying towards the ground.

  
Yang's new hand flashed out, catching Beryl's weapon. By the blades. And Yang hadn't hesitated, or blinked, or even considered. She'd just plucked the wickedly edged weapon out of the air. No wonder Yang had gotten to go live her dream of becoming a Huntress. She offered Dragon's Tail back to Beryl, hilt first.

  
"Thanks." Beryl didn't want to sheathe her weapon, because she still needed to clean it, and trim the rest of the hedge. But she was also incompetent enough to fumble it if she did do anything. So she just held tightly onto the grip, hoping Yang wouldn't pick up on how awkward everything felt.

  
_I look like an idiot. Especially after telling her I'm free to spar with her. She'd get more of a challenge from her dog._

  
"I should probably actually get back to my run."

  
Beryl managed to say, "Yeah. Hedge, scissoring, me."

  
"Like you do."

  
"I've got homework after this, too."

  
"Ouch." Yang went up on the balls of her feet, bouncing a few times. Probably eager to get back to her workout. "What is it?"

  
"Fixing bad dye jobs." And Beryl realized that she'd given Yang _another_ opening -

  
But she just nodded. "Yeah, Ruby tried to go blonde once. It was kind of a disaster."

  
That _did_ sound like Yang's kid sister. Though the hair thing, at least, Beryl understood. Who wouldn't want their hair to look like Yang's? Beryl had spent a good amount of time and lien trying to do it herself. Not trying to color-match necessarily, but trying to find a routine that approximated the results of Yang's non-routine. And - very _very_ covertly - trying to study how Yang kept control of her hair in combat. Beryl didn't think Yang was conscious of how how well -behaved her hair was in a fight, so asking her about it would be pointless, even if Beryl could have mustered up the courage for it.

  
"Umm, if you have pictures of it, I could give you advice on what to do next time."

  
"I'll have to look." Yang reached up and retied her ponytail, and Beryl _completely_ missed what she said after that, because she had been captivated by the shimmer of sunlight over Yang's hair.

  
And Yang was leaving, and all Beryl could do was half-croak out a "Bye!" after her.

  
Yang waved her mechanical arm, without turning around from her run.

  
_I'm so bad at this._

  
Beryl watched Yang run down the lane, her ponytail bouncing. She also thanked whatever gods were responsible for making Yang wear very short, very _tight_ shorts.

  
"Was that Yang?"

  
Nearly screaming, Beryl leapt into the air, pivoting to face - her mom, who had just come up next to her.

  
"Jumpy, aren't you?" Her mother looked after Yang. "I wish you'd told me. I would have gotten her a drink." She sighed in a way that had nothing to do with Yang, and probably a lot to do with Taiyang. Or Professor Branwen, but Beryl wasn't sure of her mom knew about that family connection. And she certainly wasn't going to tell her.

  
"She didn't seem thirsty."

  
"Well, it's only polite to offer. Did you two have a nice chat?"

  
"Yeah." Kinda. Sorta. Maybe?

  
Her mom adjusted her floppy sunhat. "If she comes back this way, be sure to offer her a drink, okay?"

  
"Yes, **okay** , mother. I will let her know."

  
"No need to get snippy with me, young lady. You've got plenty of hedge left to snip."

  
Rolling her eyes, Beryl got back to work.


	3. Chapter 3

_Come on, almost there._

  
Beryl was all too conscious of the pain in her legs. And her lungs. And-

  
_Come on, you'll never be able to keep up with Yang if you can't handle this._

  
She forced herself to keep moving, to pick up the pace, taking the last hundred feet at a stumbling run. Beryl reached out and grabbed the edge of the water fountain, nearly running into it as she staggered to a stop.

  
_Gods, it's only been a year or so. How am I so out of shape already?_

  
Beryl focused on her breathing, trying to keep it slow and even. Her bandana was already soaked with sweat, but at least her hair was staying out of her face and off of her neck.

  
_Just get a quick drink, take a few minutes to admire the sunrise over the beach, and push on to Signal._

  
She bent over the water fountain, trying not to just guzzle the water, just get enough to wet her throat, not enough to slow her down -

  
"Oh, hi Beryl." Yang said.

  
\- she choked.

  
Yang hit her on the back a few times as Beryl coughed up the water, her lungs, and possibly her kneecaps.

  
"Hey, you okay?"

  
Beryl looked up into Yang's beautiful, concerned lavender eyes. It wasn't _fair_ that Beryl's eyes were streaming, and she was red-faced from exertion, and she couldn't even remember if she'd brushed her teeth this morning and -

  
\- Beryl managed to nod.

  
"Good, glad to hear it. Having a good run?"

  
After one last cough, Beryl felt she could actually say words again. "Yeah. Good morning for it."

  
Yang beamed at her. Which - Beryl didn't _want_ to question it, it was like watching a second sun rise - but it was more than just Yang's old disposition coming back. It was somehow even brighter.

  
Beryl stumbled into another sentence. "You out for a run too?"

  
And even as she said it, she actually registered what Yang was wearing - the leather jacket, the riding boots, the long pants - nothing like her running outfit, with the halter top and tight short shorts.

  
And Yang had her aviators perched on her hair.

  
And she wasn't sweating.

  
And that was Bumblebee parked in the lot.

  
"Not really." Yang jerked her thumb behind her, pointing at Bumblebee.

  
"Oh!" Beryl valiantly fought her blush, hoping it would be lost in the flush from her run. "Morning ride."

  
"Well, yeah, but..." Yang gestured at her bike again. Which, Beryl finally noticed, had a big bag on it. "...I'm kind of headed out."

  
"Just to Vale for the weekend? Checking out the beaches around there? Some camping, or something? Punch a few mainland Beowolves for a change?!" She knew her voice was getting shriller.

  
"Not... really." Yang took a little breath and blew it out. "I'm heading after Ruby."

  
"But she's with your uncle, right?"

  
"I don't know. I know where she was headed, but she didn't exactly leave me an itinerary."

  
"But -" Beryl looked around frantically for a reason."-your arm! Isn't it still slowing you down?"

  
Yang held up her right hand - not cool gray and blue anymore, but black and yellow. It suited her, down to the purple lights that matched her eyes. "Nope. I got it figured out."

  
"Isn't your dad - I mean, doesn't he care about -" Beryl realized what she was saying and backpedaled furiously. "That - I didn't - are you running away from home?" She dropped her stance just a little bit, ready to spring out of the way in case Yang's eyes went red.

  
She laughed. "Hey, _I'm_ the responsible daughter. _Ruby_ slipped out without talking about it. _I_ had a nice heart-to-heart before leaving." Yang tossed her hair back, and Beryl desperately focused on Yang's face, and the words that were coming out of it. "He's staying behind to train more munchkins at Signal. Dad's got Zwei for company, and it means I always have place to come home to."

  
_Crisis averted. Now if only I can keep it that way..._ "Umm, good. That's good!" Beryl knew she wasn't ready to ask, but Yang was leaving. "I just... I, um... Can I..."

  
_Gods, I am massacring this._

  
She took a deep breath, as Yang waited. 

  
_I'm just wasting her time._

  
Beryl fought against that thought, and the words spilled out. "Do you need a second person? Someone to trade watches with? A second set of eyes. And, I mean, you know and I know that you're like miles better than me in a fight, but I'm still better than Forrest or Prase, but maybe you need some help? Or want some help? Or even just company? I can keep you company!"

  
_Oh thank Gods, I didn't say anything about brushing her hair._

  
Yang didn't look angry, which was a small blessing, at least. She stuck her real hand in her jacket pocket - grabbing onto something? "I - Beryl, please don't take this the wrong way, but I'm still dealing with a lot - a whole lot of stuff." Yang did the same little breathing sequence she'd done earlier - in, hold, out. Was that a Beacon trick? She hadn't done that back at Signal. "Even if I explained, you'd think I was making most of it up."

  
She had to clasp her hands behind her back to keep from reaching out to Yang. "I, I just really want to be around you. I miss us. Back at Signal." _There. That was out. Not as blatant as I could have been, but -_

  
Yang pulled her hand out of her jacket pocket, clutching something tightly. She swallowed, and held the object in her palm out for Beryl to see.

  
It was a bottlecap. Just an ordinary Sunflower Pop bottlecap. Just like the one Yang had tossed away when they'd met on this beach.

  
Beryl looked up at Yang, hoping for an explanation. Surely Yang hadn't gone rooting through the garbage for that one particular bottlecap! She asked, "What is this?"

  
"It's... look, it's a long explanation, I don't even know why I thought it'd help, but -" Yang took a deep breath. "I met someone at Beacon."

  
_Oh no._

  
"Someone?"

  
"Yeah. My partner on my team. Did you watch RWBY's match?"

  
Beryl nodded.

  
"The black-haired girl with the bow."

  
And Yang knew what she'd remember. Beryl nodded again, trying not to think about how pretty that girl had been, or how she dual-wielded, just like Beryl, but better, or how she'd won them the match by throwing Yang at the opposing team.

  
Someone spoke with Beryl's voice. "Where is she? Why didn't she help you heal?"

  
Yang winced, closing her fist on the bottlecap. Squeezing until her knuckles went white. "I don't know."

  
"Is she with your sister?"

  
"I don't think so."

  
"Or your other team mate?"

  
"No."

  
"Did she go back to her family? Or-"

  
Yang's eyes went red. "I don't know! I'm not going after her!"

  
Beryl swallowed, trying to stand straight before Yang's gaze. Her Yangry gaze, they'd always joked when she wasn't around. It didn't seem funny now. She asked, carefully picking her words. "Why did you bring her up?"

  
"Because - look, Beryl, we're not at Signal anymore. We're not kids anymore. We didn't talk for a year, and I'm not the same person I was a year ago." She held up her artificial arm. "I mean, literally."

  
It wasn't easy, but Beryl managed a smile. A grimace, at least. "And is the last part your.... partner's fault?"

  
"No! It's -" Yang sighed. "Look, this is the complicated part. She didn't cut my arm off. The rest of the details aren't important right now."

  
"You don't want another partner."

  
"Yeah." She shook her head. "If I'm being honest, I really just want my old one back."

  
"But - !" Beryl snapped her mouth shut. She didn't know the situation, and Yang clearly wasn't going to tell her any more. "Okay. I don't like it, but okay. You really should-"

  
"-Have someone to watch my back. Yeah, my dad said the same thing." Yang grinned at her.

  
"But you're still leaving." If Yang's own father couldn't dissuade her, what hope did Beryl have?

  
Yang nodded. "First ferry off of Patch." She pulled out her scroll. "Speaking of, I need to get going."

  
Beryl watched Yang walk over and mount Bumblebee, her throat dry. What could she even _say_? 'Don't go, I love you?' It wasn't going to _work_ , even though it was true.

  
"Yang, I -" She felt her throat catch. 

  
Her helmet in her hands, Yang looked up at her. "Beryl, you'll be okay. You were always the one with back-up plans. Forrest didn't know what he was going to do if he didn't get into Beacon. You just switched to your other passion."

  
_But I love **you**._

  
_...But you don't love me back._

  
Bumblebee's motor roared to life.

  
Beryl still couldn't think of anything to say. Anything to stop Yang. Not even anything to slow her down. All she could manage was a little wave goodbye.

  
Yang revved her bike's engine with a grin, and sped away towards the ferry.

  
Beryl watched her go, until she turned a corner, out of sight. She was gone again. Maybe for good. Maybe she'd turn up next year, back on Patch, her sister in tow. Or her partner. Or neither. 

  
"Bye, Yang." Beryl whispered, into the dust of her passage.

  
She sighed, and looked up at Signal. What was even the point anymore? Why bother getting back into shape when she'd never get to run with Yang, spar with her, collapse exhausted on the grass next to her, sit and brush her hair until it outshone the sun -

  
Beryl took a deep breath. And started running towards Signal.

  
Maybe Yang would come back. If she did, then Beryl would be ready.

  
And if not, then she'd still be in good shape.


End file.
